


The Illusion Of Me

by Sashataakheru



Category: The Move RPF, The Prisoner (1967)
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Abduction, Amnesia, Amnesty Challenge, Broken Bones, Community: hc_bingo, Depression, Escape, Gen, Imprisonment, Misgendering, Psychosis, Side Effects, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence, attempted suicide, loss of vision, psychiatric treatments, psychological torment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 12:02:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1509764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sashataakheru/pseuds/Sashataakheru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ace is trapped in the village, unable to remember anything about who he is, apart from his name. There are too many people trying to help him, and coerce him into giving them information, but nothing makes sense anymore, and all he wants to do is run away and die until he meets the one person in the Village who remembers who he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Illusion Of Me

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Happiness Made Easy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/241946) by [Sashataakheru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sashataakheru/pseuds/Sashataakheru). 



> Written for the April Amnesty Challenge at hc_bingo for the prompts 'side effects', 'loss of vision', 'broken bones', and 'abandonment issues'. My prompts are [here](http://hc-bingo.dreamwidth.org/67964.html?thread=553852#cmt553852).
> 
> **Canon Notes:** I have watched +elebenty episodes of The Prisoner in order to write this fic, to remind myself of the canon order of things. It's set somewhere after 'Free For All' and before 'The Chimes Of Big Ben', going by [this episode order](http://prisoner.gigacorp.net/theories.html#order). (Scroll down to see it; it's buried at the end of the wall-o-text.)
> 
> **AU Notes:** This crossover AU originally came about in an AU big bang I wrote back in 2011, but I was never entirely happy with it, and didn't feel like I had time to do this crossover justice. There was stuff I left out or glossed over that I felt maybe should've been covered better, like what happened to Ace at the Village, and I felt it needed a better link to the Prisoner canon. So, er, have another attempt.

The only thing Ace really remembered was the pain. He gazed down at his arms, seeing them heavily bandaged. His right hand was also in a cast. All he really knew was that he was in hospital, though where exactly he was, he didn't know, nor could he recall. He might've been anywhere. There were too many accents drifting around for him to be able to tell.

The amnesia wasn't exactly helping. When nurses referred to him as a woman, something felt wrong about that, but he just didn't know what that was. Certainly, he had a female body, but why this was a problem, he didn't know. All he really knew was that he knew himself as Ace, though they called him Forty Six, reducing him to a number, and not even one he liked. He didn't even know why he referred to himself as male, except that it made sense. There was something nagging at him that this place wasn't like all the other institutions he'd ever been in - that much he did recall - but he couldn't say for sure. He wasn't sure of anything except his name, Ace.

_That man's here again_ , Ace thought, seeing the man he only knew as Number Two enter his ward. Number Two smiled jovially, and had come to see him every day. Ace didn't really know why. He didn't like Number Two. He kept smiling at him, and pretending to like him, but Ace saw nothing but malice in his eyes, and refused to trust him.

He hadn't even been the first Number Two he'd seen, either. There was a woman, Ace recalled, but he could never entirely understand her. She never smiled, and only cared about the information in his head. But she had left some time ago, though Ace didn't know when. All he knew was that one day, she wasn't there, and a new Number Two appeared, and that new Number Two was the one he saw now as he came to sit on his bed, as if he cared about his wellbeing.

"And how's my girl this morning? Coming along nicely, are we? Have we fixed her memories yet? I thought you were going to try that new one you said would work?" Number Two said. Ace got the distinct impression he was being talked about as if he wasn't there.

The doctor by his bed consulted his notes. He wore a badge on his coat bearing the number seventy five. "It's tricky. I'm not sure she's the right patient for such a trial. It's a very delicate drug, and she has such a fragile mind."

"Well, we've got to try something. I know she knows something about Number Ten. We've got enough evidence to show she was there. She's met with those agents. She must know something," Number Two said, frustrated.

"Her memories are very fragile, Number Two. I fear any tampering might be the death of her. She may never find her way out if we are too invasive," the doctor said.

Number Two offered a withering look. "I thought that's why you wanted to try this drug? I thought you said it would do the job without using our more ... invasive techniques? It's not like she's indispensable."

"Yes, but now that I've had a chance to evaluate her further, I don't think she's the right patient. I'm surprised her mind isn't further disturbed. I've been looking over her mental health notes. She's been sectioned three times in the past five years for psychotic depression, and she has a history of suicide attempts. She's borderline psychotic at the moment, and if it wasn't for the sedation, I'd be more worried about her suicidal tendencies. You saw what she did when she first got here. Not even Number Six was that mad," the doctor said.

Number Two stood and glared at the doctor. "Number Six is another problem entirely. Right now, all I want is Number Ten dealt with, and she's the key. Give that blasted drug to her anyway. If she dies, there's still four of them left. Do it!"

"Yes, sir, I - yes, of course. Right away," the doctor said, watching Number Two storming out.

Ace had only half-heard their conversation, but he hadn't liked it. It made him worried. Another new drug might not have been so worrying, but this wasn't a place he understood, and it seemed, on the whole, a lot more dangerous than a normal institution. Who knew what they might do to him? And if he did die, well, there were four others left? Who were these other four? Was he really that worthless? Perhaps he wouldn't survive this, after all.

* * *

Fifty Two was a good nurse. She'd been looking after Forty Six ever since she'd arrived, bloody and unconscious. She'd just arrived in the Village, and it had caused some sort of panic attack. She had smashed the mirror in the bathroom and cut her arms open. She had also broken two fingers. Fifty Two had known she needed to heal more than her body. It was in the report she'd been given when Number Two had asked her to watch Forty Six and see how she progressed.

It hadn't been easy, and she'd done her best to comfort the poor girl. She was on strong antipsychotics and a heavy sedative, and it had left her barely in touch with reality. Easy for her to handle, of course, as the nurse caring for her, but she just sat in bed all day, staring off into space. It hardly felt like the sort of care that might restore her to life.

The prospect of a new drug worried Fifty Two. She knew she'd be the one dealing with the side effects - there were always side effects with the drugs those doctors came up with. Maybe she'd end up catatonic, or shivering with cold. Maybe she'd go blind or lose the ability to speak. One patient she cared for some time ago had suddenly started speaking fluent German, which had come as a surprise since he was a native Russian who had never learnt a word of German in his life. But she still did her job. She wasn't kept there to have opinions; she was kept there to work, and observe.

She sat down beside Forty Six and took her hand. Forty Six barely registered the sensation, except for the twinge of pain in her arm.

"Hello, Forty Six. How are you today? Have you been remembering anything else? Do you remember your parents at all?" Fifty Two asked, her voice soft and gentle.

Forty Six blinked slowly, and turned to look at her, as if she'd just now noticed she was there. Casting her eyes away, she said only, "I was abandoned as a child. No one loves me anymore. No one ever has."

Fifty Two knew that wasn't true, but she didn't doubt that was what she was feeling at that moment. Without any further memories, of course she felt she'd been abandoned. She knew her friends were there at the Village too, and she'd tried to jog her memory with them, but it didn't work. Forty Six didn't recognise them, and in some cases, was actually afraid of them, so she'd stopped with those sort of experiments. Her amnesia was clearly much more severe than anyone had guessed.

"You know I care for you, don't you, Forty Six? Me, little number Fifty Two, I care for you, even if no one else does," Fifty Two murmured, hoping no one overheard her.

She pressed a soft kiss to the back of her hand before she stood and left her alone, trying to pretend she didn't care as much as she did.

* * *

"But my name is Ace. I'm not a number," Ace protested, confused and unsure.

Ace barely felt her leave. He sat there, all alone, convinced that the world wouldn't miss him if he left it. He was in this strange village, all alone, and he couldn't help thinking that the world was out to get him. Number Two kept asking him for information, but Ace just didn't know what he was talking about.

A memory came to him then of having to run. Shadows were chasing him all across the country, but they never had faces, and he couldn't be sure who had sent them. All he remembered was that he'd wanted to run to France. The danger he was running from had seemed very real, but he didn't know anything more than that.

A face came to him then, someone he might once have known. But their name escaped him. Unable to remember his family, nor any friends he might've had, he felt as if his whole life had been lived in isolation. No one had ever been there for him, cared for him, done anything to make him feel like he was wanted. Even Number Two only wanted him because he was convinced he knew something. Number Two didn't care either. Once he'd given over this information, whatever that was, he knew he'd probably be killed. He wasn't any use to them then. Number Two had hinted as much to that effect. He wasn't valuable. They didn't care about damaging him. There were spares they could use if Ace didn't give them what they wanted and ended up damaged or dead in the process.

The lack of solid memories didn't help his feelings of abandonment. All he could ever remember was the Village, as if he'd lived his whole life there. He wasn't sure how true that was, but his mind was unreliable and his memories better treated as fiction. He didn't know what to believe.

Sometimes, his dreams showed him playing in a band, but other times, he was sneaking about like a thief in the night. In one, he was a postman. In another, a dog walker and carpenter's apprentice. In another still, he was a sailor with the Navy, riding a big wooden ship far across the oceans. He also dreamt of being locked in the Tower of London, for a crime he could never quite remember. The King came and sent him off for execution, but he escaped when someone smuggled him into a giant wooden horse. The nonsensical nature of his dreams didn't lend themselves to memories, either, and he generally ignored them. He had no way to discern whether any of them held any skerrick of truth at all.

Even his life at the Village was isolated. Stuck in the hospital, never being allowed to leave, he was left with the view from a small window obscured by a tree, and two other beds that were occasionally occupied by people he didn't know who never spoke to him. That stupid nurse was the only person he ever saw, who ever came to see him, apart from Number Two, and she was always trying to befriend him. Ace didn't trust her, though. He felt that she might just sell him out to Number Two. Maybe she was a spy. She'd befriend him, try to capture his lonely heart, and Ace would be trapped. In that moment, he really felt the world was out to get him. He hated when his paranoia was right

* * *

All Ace was aware of was the missing memories. It was a strange sensation, knowing that there were moments of his life he knew he ought to be able to remember, but simply couldn't recall. That everyone referred to him as female also made him doubt his own memories of being a boy. He had hardly anything to cling to regarding who he was, and he clung hard to those few things. Anything to know he was alive, he was a person, and he had a name. Not someone lost to history. Couldn't remember his parents, couldn't remember where he'd grown up, couldn't even remember a life outside of the Village, out of this hospital ward. It was a terrifying thing to live with. It felt as if his whole life had been erased.

Being reduced to a number made him feel even more isolated and alone. He didn't know who he was, or how he'd come to be there. The loneliness was palpable, and all it did was feed the depressive thoughts that so often accompanied his mind. Death began to feel like a good idea. He had no desire to stay, and no reasons to, either. He didn't know who he was, nor why he was there. The Village was becoming strange and frightening, and he felt utterly abandoned. Was he really a girl, like everyone said? He just couldn't remember anymore. Forty Six was all he knew. Forty Six, and Ace.

Number Two came back to see him, as he always did, but he barely noticed. Words were spoken, and he was lifted into a wheelchair. He'd long stopped paying attention to these trips. He never remembered them afterwards. He was taken to a dark room, but what happened there was also a mystery. He'd been blindfolded, and injected with something, and then all he remembered was a haze of coloured smoke and a sinister voice laughing in his ear. All it did was convince him that they were trying to kill him, or drive him to death, because why else would they torture his mind so much?

The silence in that room once it was all over was unbearable. Forty Six had never quite felt so isolated before, so very alone and abandoned, as if no one loved him at all. No one ever had. And no one would ever come to rescue him from this terrible place and take him away. He'd be buried in the sand with a wooden marker, and in time, no one would ever know where he was buried. He'd be removed from existence, and maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. Maybe no one would care anyway. Maybe he was already dead.

These thoughts churned over in his mind for the next few hours, growing to a crescendo that could no longer be ignored. If he was already dead, why the hell did he stay and let them keep hurting his mind? He was disposable, after all. They wouldn't notice if he was gone. They had spares. They didn't need him. Better to go end it all and leave the rest in the hands of the gods, if they existed. Alone, for once, in his ward, he waited, then, until it grew dark, when he felt safer, planning what he would do to leave this accursed existence.

When he was sure he was safe, he shifted so his feet were touching the floor. Slowly getting up, he moved softly into the night, trying to find a place to kill himself. Hos body wasn't used to walking, and ached in strange places, but it didn't give up on him. The desire to leave and end it all drove him on. He didn't think anyone would miss him. What was the point in hanging around, only to know there was no one to go home to once he was better? He wasn't even sure he would get better. Maybe all that was left to him was madness and death. Might as well take his life into his own hands.

The wet grass was cold against his bare feet as he left the hospital and made his way down the road back to the Village. He left the road and headed into the woods as soon as he could, hoping he might not be found. He could hear the sea now, and it seemed like a good a place as any to kill himself. Drowning in the sea. The sharks could eat him. Maybe then he might have done something useful for the world.

The ground in the woods was hard on his feet, and in the darkness, it was hard to see where he was going. It wasn't until he got halfway through the woods that he realised he couldn't actually see. He froze, panic flooding his body. What had they done to him? When had they done this to him? He didn't remember being given something new, did he? But he didn't remember anything.

The silence felt deafening in that moment, as he clung to a tree, trying not to fall. He heard leaves rustling - maybe footsteps?, and a mechanical dog barking in the distance. His breathing was too loud. He looked up at the sky and felt a tear run down his cheek as he saw nothing but darkness. The stars and the moon had vanished. He was utterly surrounded by darkness.

Perhaps they knew everything, and that's why he couldn't remember anything. They'd taken it from his head with their magic pills, and now he was blind and surely he'd crack his head open and die out here in the woods. Maybe they'd bury him at sea. The prospect of death seemed less enticing if he wasn't the one choosing to die.

He heard footsteps then, proper ones, carefully coming through the woods from behind him. They seemed hesitant, and a soft voice was calling out to him.

"Forty Six! Where are you? Are you alright? Are you hurt? It's Fifty Two, your nurse. I just want to make sure you're alright."

But he wasn't sure he trusted anyone at that moment, in spite of his fear. Crying against the tree, the hand on his back startled him, and he resisted as someone tried to grab hold of him. Struggling against them, he took a step backwards and fell down, tripping over a root. Something painful flooded his body, and he felt helpless, sure he was about to die.

"Go on. Put me out of my misery. Bloody horse gone broke its leg in the final furlong. Put me to sleep. I don't care anymore," Ace said, trying to sound brave.

But he was neither killed, nor left alone. Instead, someone pulled him to his feet, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. His body ached, and he was sure his right leg was broken. It certainly felt broken. He couldn't touch the ground with his toe without sharp pain blasting up his leg and smashing into his hips. He could barely move it.

"Who are you? Where am I? Am I going to die?" Ace asked, unsure.

"You're not going to die. I'm Fifty Two. You see me every day. I'm a nurse at the hospital. You've hurt yourself, so I'm going to help you get back, alright?" said the person beside him.

"Can't- can't walk. So much pain," Ace said. It was the last thought that entered his head before he was overwhelmed and fell to the ground, unconscious.

* * *

A week passed. His vision had returned after a couple of days, but it was still sometimes a little blurry. Ace sat there in bed, watching as the nurse redressed the wounds on his arms. He noticed them properly for the first time, seeing the angry stitched wounds he'd given himself, or so they said. He'd never quite believed them, even though they'd showed him a film of what he'd done. He'd seen himself crying, distressed, as he smashed a window with his fist and cut up his arms. It had triggered something bad in his mind at the time, but the drugs they kept giving him had robbed him of his memories. His leg was also in plaster, and left raised at an awkward angle. He couldn't remember how he'd done that, either.

"How'd I do them again? It's like this ain't even my own body," Ace murmured.

Fifty Two looked up at him as she cleaned the wounds. "You don't remember? You did this the first day you arrived. That's why you've been in here so long, Forty Six. You lost a lot of blood. Don't you remember why you did it?"

Ace shook his head. "I don't remember anything. I'm Ace. That's all I know. Can you get that man to stop asking me for information? I don't know anything. Please, just ask him to let me go. I don't like it here."

"But you're not well yet. We have to keep you here until you're better," Fifty Two said, as if that was the end of it.

Ace sighed and left his body. She was rubbing something nasty into the wounds now, and it felt like glass. Leaving the pain behind, he retreated into his mind, where at least he felt a little safer.

* * *

Ace was taken to a small room that seemed to be deep underground. He felt he might have protested more if he hadn't been sedated. He merely sat in the wheelchair, staring off into space. He wasn't particularly aware of what was going on, except that he was being taken away again. He expected he'd be experimented on again. He was glad he never remembered those sessions. He wasn't sure he wanted to remember what they did to him.

Fifty Two was with him, wheeling him to wherever they were going. Number Two wanted to try a new technique on Ace to try to recover his memories, but Fifty Two was anxious about it. She'd never cared for a patient as fragile as Forty Six before. She was sure it might kill him, rather than save him.

Number Two was waiting for them in a small room, along with another man, Number Ten. Number Ten was another valuable prisoner, who wasn't yet ready to offer up all the information in his head, but Number Two hoped that this might help break his will.

"I believe you know this girl, don't you, Number Ten? She's been one of your runners for years," Number Two said, gesturing to Ace as he sat there, gazing absently at a spot on the wall.

"I never used girls as runners. I don't know what you're playing at," Number Ten replied, wary but sure of himself.

"Oh, but we have photographs. See? Do you recognise her now?" Number Two said as a series of photographs were projected onto a screen nearby.

It seemed to have an effect on Number Ten, though whether it was the desired effect Number Two was after, it wasn't entirely clear. Number Ten seemed to go into a rage, and shoved Number Two away. Fifty Two pulled Ace out of the way, trying not to get in the middle of their fight.

"Ace is _not_ a bloody girl. I'd bloody know if he was a girl. He's one of my boys, and you've bloody broken him!" said Number Ten as he shoved Number Two away.

"I can assure you that she is, indeed, a girl. We're quite sure of that. She was on the verge of breaking before she came here. We can't be held responsible for her mental health, fragile though it is. All we want is information," Number Two said.

"No, you don't bloody get to shirk on me now. He wasn't a bloody vegetable before he got here. He was alright. Scared, but alright. But now he's bloody broken," Number Ten said as he tried to punch Number Two. He missed, but it was clear that he had been trying to make him back off as he went over to Ace and held him, trying to protect him.

That was when Ace paid attention. He'd heard someone else calling him by his name, Ace, rather than that daft number, and the effect was overwhelming. Finally, someone knew who he was. He wasn't alone in this daft village. Looking up at the man in front of him, he almost felt his face was familiar, but he didn't quite know his name.

"You know who I am. You know me. Please, take me away from here. I don't know where I am. I don't know what's going on," Ace murmured, holding him back. He would trust this stranger because he knew his name.

"It's alright, lad, I'll keep you safe," Number Ten said, looking down at him. "He's coming with me, Number Two. You won't hold him anymore. He's mine. Cos you bloody broke him, and I won't have you hurting him anymore."

Number Two looked distinctly ruffled as he got to his feet and approached him. "Will you tell us what we want to know, then, if we let you have him? Can we make a deal?"

Number Ten shot him a look. "No deal. I just want him safe, and I bet he's safer with me than he ever would be with you. I look after my boys. What are they even doing here, anyway? They're just kids. They don't know anything. You think I'm so daft and careless I'd tell them what's going on? Nah, you bloody broke him for no reason, and I can't forgive you for that. He should never have been brought here, none of them should be here. They don't belong here. They're not one of us."

Before Number Two could reply, Number Ten had picked up Ace in his arms, and fled the room, leaving them behind. Ace didn't know what to do but cling for dear life.

"Should I send someone after them? She's ever so fragile," Fifty Two offered, watching them go. Her anxiety seemed to be warranted.

Number Two waved away her concerns. "No, let them go. I want to see what he does next."

Without further hesitation, Number Two swept out of the room and headed back to the control room, wanting to see where Number Ten might go next.

* * *

Still affected by the sedation, Ace wasn't entirely sure what was going on, nor why he was being carried by someone, a man, who seemed to be in a hurry. He wasn't running, but they weren't exactly strolling, either. Ace held onto him, focussing his mind on that task alone, until he was safe. That was all he knew, that this man was willing to protect him.

Number Ten took him down to a cave by the beach, tucked away from prying eyes. It had been a difficult route to traverse the dunes, and Ace had been unable to walk it with his broken leg, but they'd made it, and Ace was gently settled on the floor. He felt exhausted and unsure what was going on. He still didn't know who had come to his rescue.

"Who's she? I didn't ask you to bring company," a voice said, coming from the depths of the cave.

"He's one of my boys. They broke him up there, they did. Bastards," Number Ten said.

Ace could hear the strike of the match, and smell the cigarette smoke in the air. He wanted desperately to be able to move, but his body felt like lead. His right leg was still in plaster. The smoke brought a craving to his awareness, but he wasn't in any state to do anything about it, hungry though he was to be smoking with them. He didn't know why he wanted to smoke, either. He had no memory of being a smoker, but it was lost like all the other memories he didn't have.

"They break everyone here. That's the point of this place. Nevertheless, I was hoping we'd be meeting in private," the second voice said.

"Don't mind him. He's sedated. He hardly knows who he is anymore," Number Ten replied. "We still need to talk, whether he's here or not."

Footsteps buffed against the stone, and echoed off the walls. "What's she even doing here? She's not one of us."

"I know, I never told him anything. I wouldn't risk my safety on his questionable mental health. They brought five of my boys here, my runners. I think they're trying to break me with them, hoping I'll have told them something, or that I'll make a deal. But they don't know anything, and I'm afraid they'll end up broken because of me. I didn't think they'd stoop to bringing civilians into this, not like this. It feels like they've gone too far," Number Ten said.

"I don't think they know what going too far even means anymore, not here. Nothing is off limits. Whatever they were trying to achieve by bringing them here, wel, you did just run down here with her in your arms. You still want to escape, don't you?" the second voice said.

"Yes, yes, of course I do. But it was easier when I didn't know they were here too. Those boys shouldn't be here. It's my fault they were brought into this, but I didn't think they'd get taken as well," Number Ten said.

"You should've been more careful. We were running a delicate operation, and I didn't need you crashing through it all like a charging bull. I thought you'd have the sense to retire and leave when you still had the chance. You might've got away with it," the second voice said.

"They got you, didn't they? That's all the proof I needed that I wasn't going to make it out alive. There's no escaping them. They'll find you wherever you are," Number Ten said.

There was another momentary silence. Then the two men came to sit either side of Ace, and Ace wasn't sure what was about to happen. His brain was hazy, and he still wasn't sure he could move.

"So, who is she, anyway?" the second man said.

Ace turned to the voice, and felt he recognised the man beside him, now that he could see his face. He squinted a little and tried to remember where he'd seen him. "I think I saw you once. In the hospital. All I remember is the trumpets. There were loads of people in the room. I don't remember what you said, though. Sounded all foreign to me."

Ace turned away, trying to remember. The man merely looked intrigued, though whether this was because he was challenging Ace to remember, or felt sure he wouldn't be able to, Ace didn't know.

"Six-sixty Two. Daft numbers. I don't even remember anymore," Ace said finally.

"I'm surprised you remember that much. I am Number Six, yes. That must've been back during the election. That was some weeks ago. You've been on some powerful drugs," the man said.

"Election," Ace repeated, though it was meaningless.

"See what I mean? He had some problems before he came here, yeah, but he wasn't like this. They've destroyed his mind," Number Ten said. He wrapped an arm around Ace's shoulders and brought him close. "What am I going to do with you, Ace?"

Ace leant in close, needing to be with the one man who knew his name. Perhaps he might stand a chance of getting out of here after all.


End file.
